Fred and Fred
by Adlet
Summary: First Year Fred Weasley, son of George Weasley, is caught walking around the corridors of Hogwarts completely lost. Thankfully, a hidden family member is there to help... (Leaving this as a one-shot)


**First Harry Potter fic, whoo!**  
**I am quite aware that this sort of thing never actually happened ever, but I like to think that this one particular occurrence did.**

**I found the topic a cool thing to write about, so here it is. Hope you like!**

**I EDITED THIS TWICE, SO SORRY IF YOU GET A BIT CONFUSED.  
**

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Hastened clicks skittered down the looming halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

A black cloak lined with crimson fabric flowed behind the rushing boy, much like a cape.

The passage of which he ran loomed ominously in silence.

The first-year was the only one in its lonely presence.

His azure eyes flickered from wall to wall and were on the verge of tears. Russet hair whisking along close to his ear.

With only half an hour left until the next class, the child had lost hope of making it to his first class on time; let alone make it there in the first place.

The robed boy slowed his desperate run to a walk. He sniffed quietly with defeat.

A spiraling breeze filtered in from a circular, open window in the wall. Despite being early September, the wind had chilled the student's bones like a winter storm.

The pupil continued to step forward slowly, now not only unsure of his surroundings, but the very air he breathed as well.

This was no ordinary occurrence; not even when compared to a magical one.

The cold from the gust began to resonate throughout the area, making the young wizard shiver a bit.

What he didn't get was that he far passed by the window at this point. Why was it still freezing?

The boy turned around casually to see what the problem was.

But instead of seeing the usual area of the corridor, he was met by a silvery figure with a smile plastered on its face.

The youth sprung back but kept his sky-blue gaze fixed on the ghostly character. He tried to stand his ground, despite the shaking of his knees. His breathing quickened, as well.

"Boo." the voice of a young man huffed humorously from the spirit.

The beryl eyes of the boy snapped shut as the color drained from his face. He spun on his heel and made a mad dash away from the bright shadow as fast as his legs could carry him.

A cold gale followed the boy's desperate strides. He squeaked in fear as the cool air closed in on him.

"C'mon, mate!" the voice called after him with laced slight regret, "I'm not going to hurt you!"

The reddish chestnut haired boy slowed down to an unsure jog when he heard the ghost's plea. The student turned back once more, only to see the transparent man glide toward him with ease.

"I just wanted a laugh- that's all."

Stopping abruptly, the eleven-year-old tried to calm himself and allowed the spirit to approach him, even if he didn't seem to be a local Hogwarts resident.

"Sorry, forgot that Firsties were jumpy." apologized the unnamed soul calmly.

The child just blinked, inside his heart was thudding as quickly as a charging Centaur. How did the spirit know how old he was? That was a question that would remain unanswered.

A bold quiet blanketed the halls again.

"So... you're a Gryffindor, eh?" the ghost commented, the humor in his voice was close to absent.

The living wizard nodded cautiously.

"'Could tell because of the badge," the older voice replied, his eyes glanced down at the chest of the youth's robe, "It's the best House around, if you ask me."

The ghost was left without a reply and the pupil began walking again in aimless directions. The chilling air of the shadow continued to flow behind him.

"Are you lost?" the voice was now soft, quite the contrary to what he had originally been.

The Gryffindor paused and his blue eyes looked down thoughtfully. He eventually nodded again.

"Well, spit it out. Where are 'ya trying to get too?"

"Th-the T-transfiguration Corridor," stuttered the student.

"You sound like you're under a Tongue-Tying curse!" the spirit chuckled lightly, "Like I already said, I'm not gonna hurt you!"

The Gryffindor looked up at the figure seriously, without speech he still demanded a valid answer. Taking the hint, the silvery person went right in for his answer.

"I'm guessing that you wound up here because of the Changing Staircases, to start things off."

"Those stairs _change_?" The first-year demanded, "Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"I don't know, but they do change."

"Well, get on with it!" the wizard commanded, not at all like the timid boy he seemed to be, "Tell me how to get to the Transfiguration Corridor!"

"Alright! Alright!" the soul bleated, "What you do is that you keep walking the way you're going and turn left a couple times. That should get you to where you want to be."

"Okay, then," the youth's voice replied, now calm. "I should get going then. Class starts in-"

"Ten minutes, I know," the shadow interrupted, "Now, run along, then! You don't want to be losing points for your House in the second week! Leave that for three weeks from now!"

"Well, err... Thanks then, Mister..." The child now waited for an answer.

The young-looking soul looked at the boy thoughtfully, as if deciding if he should give a valid answer or not.

The comedic spirit decided with 'not', of course.

"Now Freddy, I don't give out my name to just anybody." the ghost laughed and pivoted to soar the opposite way of the young Gryffindor. He blew past him like a breeze.

"How'd you know my name!?" shouted the first year, turning back and walking up to the ghost so they were nose-to-nose, stopping the apparition before he continued his way down the long room.

"Ah, ah, ah!" he scolded with a grin and shook a candlelight finger, "Clock's a' ticking. You've only eight minutes left!"

He skimmed over the top of the boy's head and ascended into the light of the sun flooding in from stain-glass windows lining the hall. He smiled down at the Hogwarts attendee with slight sorrow.

The spirit glowed with hues of reds, blues, and greens before he slowly evaporated into thin air;

The ghost of his last laugh etched upon his face.

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**So, I rather liked both writing and reading through to edit this. (WHICH I HAD TO DO TWICE. I AM A GENIUS.)  
**

**But of course I have my own author's bias all about my thoughts.**

**So... what did _you_ think? Leave me your thoughts in a review, please! I'd love to hear it!  
**


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